


Interlude: Could Have Been

by ladyshadowdrake



Series: Bittersweet [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Steve dreams of what his wedding would have been, and sometimes Tony wonders how growing up with Steve would have changed Christmas in the Stark home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bells

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [我们本可以/Interlude: Could Have Been](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319541) by [polarbonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarbonnie/pseuds/polarbonnie)



> This is not the promised third installment, just a little interlude in-between and my Christmas present. :)

Sometimes, Steve dreamed of what his wedding might have been.

Most of the time he stood up next to Howard at the altar in his army dress uniform, and tried to keep his hand from wandering into Howard’s when he wasn’t paying attention. Howard solved the problem like he solved all problems. As their brides entered the chapel, Peggy on Colonel Phillips’ arm and Maria just behind with her father, Howard reached over and took Steve’s hand in a brief grip. They could pull it off because all eyes were on the girls and they were just two bridegrooms, delirious with happiness, congratulating each other.

Peggy smiled at Steve as they came to a stop just out of arm’s reach. Colonel Phillips gave Steve a steady look of mock severity. Perhaps not mock severity – as much as Phillips and Peggy snapped and fought early on, they pulled together into quite a team by the end of the War. Phillips was protective over her, mostly because she hardly needed the protection.

The end of the War. What an amazing, foreign, dizzying concept.

(Sometimes in the dream, Bucky stood just one step above him and slightly to the left. He reached out and grabbed Steve’s shoulder to give him a good congratulatory squeeze. Sometimes it was just Bucky’s warm familiar hand, but most of the time it was a cold metallic grip that briefly made Steve remember that this was a dream, it wasn’t for him, not really.)

Steve smiled and stepped forward to take Peggy’s hand. Phillips held on for a second with his eyes narrowed as if he wasn’t going to let her go, but Peggy finally poked him in the side and he relented. A chuckle went through the crowd like ice clinking in a water glass.

(Something about ice was very important, but he couldn’t remember, and Peggy did look lovely in her simple pale pink gown. Behind her, Maria was radiant in pearly white silk.)

Steve led Peggy up the stairs to the altar, but his attention was all on Howard. His ears tuned into the sound of Howard’s feet on the carpet, the gentle murmur of conversation between Howard and Mr. Carbonell.

“You take good care of my girl, Stark, or you’ll answer to me,” Mr. Carbonell said softly, his voice lilted just enough to imply he was teasing, but Steve didn’t think he was.

Steve could hear the smile in Howard’s voice as he responded, “She’s in the very best of hands.”

Of course, she wasn’t in Howard’s hands, not really, but Howard wasn’t lying either, because Peggy loved Maria ferociously and would keep her happy and safe.

“Oh, Daddy!” Maria said under her breath. “Love you. Stop being a bear.” She kissed her father’s cheek and danced into Howard’s arms. Steve listened to them climbing the stairs. For all that he hated the duplicity necessary in their marriages, he couldn’t help but be filled with joy just knowing that Howard was there, and that Maria and Peggy would get their happy ending.

As they turned to exchange their vows, most of the time Steve looked down at Peggy, comforted by the sight of Howard’s broad shoulders and strong back just behind her. Steve slid Peggy’s simple golden band onto her finger, and then lifted her veil and set his lips to hers. She put a gloved hand on his cheek and brushed their noses together. They all took the car together, and no one thought it was strange at all when the girls sat on one side and Howard and Steve sat facing them. The windows were just dark enough that Steve could take Howard’s hand in his and brush his thumb over Howard’s wedding band.

But sometimes, the dream was even more impossible.

Sometimes Steve and Howard walked down the aisle together, dressed in black tuxes. Steve’s cummerbund was blue and Howard’s was red, and Steve didn’t even mind when Bucky teased that they looked like a walking American flag. All it took was the star on Bucky’s shoulder to make them a set-

(And that seemed strange to him, why Bucky would have a star on his shoulder-)

-but Steve flat refused to let Bucky walk them down the aisle. So Bucky waited at the altar with the rest of the Commandos on the left. Howard’s business partner and three close friends waited on the right.

“Are you ready for this?” Howard asked softly as they passed the front pews to the stairs.

Steve smiled down at Peggy and Maria, curled up on the first pew together, their arms interlaced so their white gold wedding bands glinted off the light. Steve turned and looked at Howard, and his knees felt weak when he saw the expression on his face – almost shy, full of hope and happiness and longing. Steve cradled Howard’s face with his hands and kissed him like they were alone.

A chuckle ran through the crowd like the sound of ice breaking-

(Why was it so important, the ice?)

-and Bucky put a hand on his shoulder. Bucky’s hand was warm, but hard and unyielding. Polished silver gleamed in the light.

“You two are jumping ahead in the script,” Bucky told him.

Steve smiled sheepishly and they took the stairs to the waiting priest. They exchanged their vows and Steve slid a ring onto Howard’s finger that was exactly the same silver as Bucky’s warm metal arm. They kissed again to applause, Howard’s hands on his hips and Steve cradling Howard’s cheek with one hand.

Most nights, they separated to the cheering of their friends. Steve frowned at the Avengers standing in the first pew. He couldn’t figure out why it didn’t make sense when the Commandos were right next to him. They walked down the aisle arm-in-arm, and Howard’s limo had windows tinted nearly black, so no one was the wiser when Howard slid right between his knees and opened his pants.

But sometimes Steve pulled away from his first kiss as a married man and it wasn’t Howard there at all, but Tony, wide-eyed and flushed with pleasure.

On those nights, Steve woke struggling for air in his barren SHIELD issued apartment feeling lonely, and hated himself for wanting it.


	2. Christmas with the Starks

Sometimes Tony thought about what life would have been growing up with Steve.

It was the Christmas lights that made him think about it as more than a stomach-churning nightmare. Tony didn’t enjoy Christmas, and the lights normally just made him remember _Christmas with the Starks!_ A staged broadcast his parents put on every year to show the rest of the world that the Starks were real people. Tony was turned out of bed way too early, made up carefully to look charmingly tousled and then put back to bed, but told to lay very still. At the signal, he jumped out of bed and made a production of being so very excited. The camera followed him as he ran down the halls ( _Are you_ sure _you want me to? You always tell me not to.)_ and pounded on mom and dad’s door ( _really?_ ). Mom opened the door first, looking perfect but still giving the camera a shocked gasp and hiding her face. When she ducked back into the room, dad came out in his dressing robe.

“It’s Christmas, dad!”

_(Tony hated it when some stated obvious facts, and he hated it even more when that someone was him.)_

“Do you think Santa got anything for you?” Howard asked indulgently, crouching down in front of his six year-old son like Tony saw other dads do at the park.

Tony bit his lip so he wouldn’t blurt out, _you said there was no such thing as Santa!_ But it worked in his favor, because his dad just chuckled and messed up his hair like he was adorable for being unsure.

“Well, let’s go and see, shall we?”

As far as the viewers would know, Tony went tearing off down the hall once more with dad following right behind, laughing at him to be careful on the stairs. Actually, the camera was turned off and they did the scene in front of the door again, and then mom had her face put on, and they went into the living room. Tony was directed to go running into the room like it wasn’t the fourth time. He skidded to his knees in front of the tree, _oohing_ and _awing_ over the presents he watched Jarvis carefully arrange the night before. They had big bows and tags that read _From Santa_ in a calligraphic script. Tony obediently brought one to his dad, and one to his mom, and kept another for himself. Dad and mom sat closer on the couch than they ever did without the cameras rolling, smiling, dad’s arm around mom’s shoulder.

Tony had already been coached on opening presents. Dad wasn’t happy when they had to rewrap the first one the year before after Tony painstakingly peeled up each piece of tape and flattened out the paper. He tore into instead, such a waste, sending shreds of golden paper everywhere.

“ _WOW!_ ” Tony shouted at the unearthed Stretch Armstrong action figure. He already knew what was in the box, the most sought-after Christmas gift of the season. He actually liked Stretch Armstrong, though his father scoffed at the idea of a man who was that elastic ( _Dad would have hated Reed)_ , so he didn’t mind picking it up and showing it excitedly to his parents, shouting _look what Santa got!_

Dad unwrapped a sweater that he would never wear along with a tie that he would, and mom had a new pair of slippers and a plush pink bathrobe. Tony opened boxes with clothes and was appropriately gracious, and mom gushed over her new Kitchenaid stand mixer and _oh, Howard, this will make cooking and baking so much easier! How did you know?_ Never mind that Tony didn’t think his mom could even boil water without Ms. Maddie supervising.

After that production, they rode into town and spent the rest of the day handing out presents in hospitals and visiting war vets. The visit to the vets was maybe the only thing Tony thought his dad actually enjoyed. He sat down with the men and talked about their War and the new war, and gave out handshakes and back pats.

Later, after the cameras were turned off, mom’s smile melted off her face and she retreated to her bedroom where she ate dinner on her own. Tony sat uncomfortably in the living room with dad and they ate off of trays with “The Six Million Dollar Man” playing. Dad was already half-way to drunk, and he talked over the whole show to explain how Steve Rogers was the real six million dollar man, and a better one at that, and the world wouldn’t be in such a state if only he hadn’t died.

So, flying over New York and seeing the lights spread out under him, Tony wondered exactly how it would have been different with Steve there.

No cameras, first of all. Steve wouldn’t have allowed it, not in their home, _it’s Christmas, Howard, family time. The rest of the world can wait_. When Tony imagined it, he got up early all on his own, and ran to his dad’s door without being prompted. He listened carefully through the keyhole, and as soon as he heard the first murmur of voices, knocked.

“Come on in, son!”

It wasn’t strange at all to open the door and see Uncle Steve sitting at the foot of dad’s bed. Mom and Aunt Peggy came in through the connecting door, wrapped up in their silk robes and slippers. Steve held out his arms and Tony ran into the room, jumping and trusting Steve to catch him. Steve did, of course, and deposited him right onto the bed, where he commenced the dreaded Tickling Attack of Doom and Tony enlisted dad’s aid to fight of the Giggle Monster. Eventually mom and Peggy would weigh in on Tony’s behalf, Peggy jumping on Steve’s back to hold his arms while mom went for his ribs. Dad snagged Tony and pulled him out of reach. By the time Steve escaped the dual attacks of mom and Peggy, Tony was already cuddled under the blankets, safe and giggling while Steve called out, bewildered, _“_ Where’s that munchkin gone off to now? Curses! I’ll get you next time!”

Breathless with joy, Tony eventually popped his head out of the blankets. “You’ll never get me Giggle Monster!”

They all ended up in the bed together, Tony pressed happily between dad and Steve, with mom and Peggy on dad’s other side. Steve produced presents from the bedside table and Tony crowd in delight when he opened his very own Stretch Armstrong action figure.

“It’s preposterous,” his dad complained, pulling on one of the stretchy arms. “Human tissue does not support the elastic nature of-”

“Howard,” Steve shushed. “It’s a toy.”

“It’s scientifically improbable,” Howard maintained while Tony demonstrated by pulling on the doll’s stretchy arms.

“But not impossible, or you would have said impossible. Stop being a spoilsport.”

Tony didn’t think anything of it when Steve leaned over to kiss dad on the cheek, because Steve was always there and kissed dad on the cheek a lot. He kissed mom and Aunt Peggy and Tony too, so it was okay. Eventually they got out of the bed and went downstairs to see that Santa had left a whole bag full of presents. Tony was convinced that Santa wasn’t real, but he’d somehow managed to escape all of Tony’s traps. Plus there were all the new presents to consider, and Tony had searched the _whole house_ , so they had to come from somewhere.

Dad opened up a new sweater that he would only wear because Uncle Steve said it brought out his eyes, and a tie that he would complain about when he had to put it on for work. Mom opened up a new pair of sparkly earrings and nudged Aunt Peggy when she said, “Thank you, Santa.” Steve had new crayons that he called oil pastels, and he promised Tony he would teach him how to use them, and Peggy got a gun. Dad frowned and glared, but she promised Tony she would teach him how to use that as well.

They went out after breakfast to build snowmen, and dad started a snowball fight by dumping a whole handful down Steve’s jacket. By the end of it Tony and Steve were barricaded behind a snow wall, Peggy and dad were hiding behind the snowmen, and mom had abandoned the field of battle to make hot cocoa.

They still spent time handing out presents at hospitals and visiting vets, but Tony liked to imagine that maybe things didn’t look as dire as they had in reality just from the impact of Steve’s presence. When he imagined it, he thought that his dad would have smiled more, and Tony wouldn’t have given hope on magic quite so early. It was so sickeningly idealistic that he locked himself in his workshop for the entire week of Christmas.

He pointedly did not think of curling up next Steve on the couch and watching bad Christmas movies with a glass of wine in hand, Steve’s arm over his shoulder, their legs pressed casually close together. He didn’t think of a quiet gift exchange on Christmas morning, Tony handing over a box of India inks and watercolors that only looked like a present because the silly girl at the craft store put a gold bow on the top. He certainly didn't imagine Steve handing him a painting in response, wrapped in horrifyingly festive red and green paper with a million bows stuck all over it, and not saying a word when Tony carefully lifted off each piece of tape and smoothed out the paper. Those were all things that belonged in a universe not his own. Tony didn’t stack those images up against Steve leaning over to kiss dad where they sat side-by-side in bed, and he didn’t decide that he would prefer to see his dad smile to having Steve’s lips on his own, and _Jesus_ , wasn’t that just the sickest thing he _hadn’t_ thought about all week?

Tony emerged on December 30th to find a small red box with a white bow sitting outside the workshop door, and inside was a tourist’s snow globe of Iron Man in a yellow scarf with the New York cityscape behind him. Tony let the snow swirl in the water and didn’t need the tag to tell him it was from Steve. He held it loosely in one hand and thought that he should want to smash it, but felt himself smiling instead.

**Author's Note:**

> More follows. Eventually. Thanks!


End file.
